


Brighter Than the Moon

by Pinkerton



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Time, Fourth of July, M/M, gratuitous use of pop music references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkerton/pseuds/Pinkerton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's trip to Madison starts with a lapful of Bitty and ends at a Waffle House. In between are trucks, making out, fireworks, first times, and a lot of chirping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighter Than the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> There can never be enough stories about Jack's trip to Madison. Here's my offering. Many, many thanks to Tumblr user ziimbits for her incredibly generous beta -- a few sentences in the story were taken directly from her editorial suggestions. Any remaining mistakes are results of my own post-beta tinkering.

_July 6th_

Jack chases the setting sun across Georgia as he drives back to the airport, Creedence Clearwater Revival softly playing through the subpar speakers of his rental car. Bitty had loaded up his phone with a playlist called “Dad Rock” before Jack left. Jack hadn’t even laughed when Bitty told him that it was part of his Father’s Day gift to Coach the previous year, he’d just cranked up his phone as loud as it would go and grinned as Bitty huffed and puffed about musical atrocities, getting more and more worked up. Jack learned that day that it takes Bitty approximately two minutes to go from irritated to kissing him.

He learned a lot about Bitty this trip: he sleeps on his stomach, he abhors lemon in his tea, his knees freckle in the summer sun. 

Jack fervently hopes he gave as good as he got, that he opened up enough to let Bitty learn something about him. He’d tried, at least. Like that morning when they’d had breakfast at a Waffle House; Jack stuck to a simple waffle and a pile of eggs, while Bitty got hash browns with approximately seventeen adjectives in front of them, covered in cheese and meat and veggies.

_“Is this America’s poutine? Why is there so much of it?” Jack had asked in French, leaning over the table to steal a bite._

_Bitty groaned at him. “You just wait, Jack Zimmermann. I registered for a French class in the fall, and before you know it I’m gonna be catching all these li’l things you say.”_

_Jack nearly dropped his fork in surprise. “You’re taking French?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“For me?”_

_“Well, I’m not dating any other handsome Québécoise men who talk in their sleep, so…”_

“Bitty.”

_Bitty smiled shyly at Jack. “No chirping me for mistakes when I start, now.”_

_“I’m going to help you,” Jack said. He paused to eat a bite of his waffle. “You won’t need much extra help, though. Samwell’s French department is excellent. I really missed hanging out there after I changed my major—“_

_“Wait, wait, wait,” Bitty interrupted. “What?”_

_It would have been so easy for Jack to just shrug and change the subject, but instead he let the story spill out—school years cut short and started late due to hockey, starting college not only already behind others in age, but also having to write everything in formal, academic English, thinking he’d be rusty after a few years away from studying. He hadn’t penned an essay in the language since he was 16. College was going to be hard enough, so a major in French it was. Had he not had this crisis of confidence, though, he wouldn’t have ended up in Professor Morin’s French history survey second semester of his frog year. In Professor M’s capable hands, history became something alive, something beyond static dates and the actions of long dead men. If Jack could spin raw hockey stats into player analysis and strategy, he could certainly take primary sources and build a bigger picture, a rounder thing than what he started with._

_“So that’s how I became a history major.” Jack sipped at his cooling cup of coffee._

_“I had no idea,” Bitty said right before he reached over and stole Jack’s last bite of waffle._

In the car, Jack shakes his head to snap himself back to the present and smiles as he changes lanes, noting the signs for the airport exit coming up on the highway. He likes thinking about Bitty. Bitty, with his big heart and his big personality, and the quiet center of sheer bravery that Jack is just getting to know, just starting to piece together, gathering more every day. A constant study in revision, this boyfriend of his. 

* * * *

_July 4th_

Not half an hour after Jack’s arrival, Bitty takes them both out in his father’s truck ostensibly to show Jack the town. Jack’s sure Madison is lovely, but Bitty’s tour starts and ends with the employee parking lot in the back of a vacant strip of shops, where Bitty throws the truck into park and then slides over the bench seat and climbs into Jack’s lap, sighing contentedly before kissing Jack. Bitty’s fingers are on his jaw, in his hair, and his teeth catch Jack’s bottom lip. Jack goes with it, following Bitty’s lead, opening his mouth to let Bitty taste him, running his hands down Bitty’s thighs. He dips his fingers under the cuffs of Bitty’s shorts as far as he can, rubbing the soft skin there. He digs his nails in just a bit, and Bitty whimpers, so he does it again, then again. 

“Lord,” Bitty moans against Jack’s mouth, breathing hard. Jack lets Bitty catch his breath while he gently kisses up and down Bitty’s neck, Bitty making soft noises. Jack drags his lips to Bitty’s collarbone, pulling the fabric of his tank top down to suck a mark – low enough to be easily covered – and making Bitty gasp and rock against Jack’s thighs, a few inches from where Jack really wants him. Jack lifts his knees to tip Bitty forward, cupping his ass and pulling him flush against him. Jack moans at the contact, even through their clothes, but then Bitty goes still, the soft whirl of the truck’s a/c filling the sudden silence.

Jack freezes.

“Bitty?” He reaches up to touch his cheek.

“I can feel….” Bitty barely raises his hips against Jack’s, a tentative lift. 

“Yeah.” Jack searches Bitty’s wide eyes. “Feels good?”

“Y –yesss.” Bitty still isn’t moving.

“But?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know!” Bitty says in a rush. He covers his face with his hands and hitches himself back to slump against the glove box. 

“Hey, no.” Jack reaches to gently grasp Bitty’s wrists and move his hands away from his face. “What’s happening?”

Bitty tilts his head to look out the window, away from Jack, and Jack gives him a moment, gives him as much space as he can when they’re inches from each other, when Jack’s still slowing down his breathing. “Bitty?”

Bitty pauses before he speaks, still looking out the window. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You were doing just fine.”

Bitty bites his lip, pausing before he speaks. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And now I can’t-- I just. I haven’t ever--” 

He makes a low, frustrated noise before he slips off Jack’s lap and back to the driver’s seat. “I’m taking us home. If my momma asks, you liked the Hill-Huggins mansion the best, and you don’t have a map cause the Chamber of Commerce closed early.”

“Sure.” Jack reaches his hand out toward Bitty, but Bitty shakes his head. Jack puts his hands in his lap, instead. “I can do that.”

Bitty spends the rest of the ride rattling off historical facts about Madison and taking his turns too hard. 

* * * *

_July 6th_

It takes Jack longer than he expects to return his rental car due to the extremely solicitous counter agent. He’s expecting an autograph or selfie request, but instead he gets a business card with “Sheri 706-555-7823” scrawled on the back in pencil. The “i” is dotted with a heart. Jack thanks her for the prompt and efficient service, ignores her wink, and walks toward the terminal. 

By the time he’s situated at his gate, Bitty’s texted him 7 times, the speech bubbles of their conversation filled with emoji. Jack replies with a photo of Sheri’s number and is rewarded with a string of escalating frowny faces. He’s smiling at his phone as he types out his reply:

_It’s been real, Bittle, but Sheri and I are going to have a beautiful life together._

There’s no reply for a few moments, long enough to make Jack start to worry, when a Snapchat notice comes through. The top of the picture cuts off Bitty’s face, but what’s on display makes Jack’s mouth go dry – Bitty’s lifting his shirt with one hand, his abs on full display and his underwear rucked down as far as they can go without actually exposing anything. Just as Jack’s higher brain functions return, the photo vanishes. 

Jack shifts in his chair and types out a response. 

_Sheri who?_

Bitty sends a photo of himself smirking, and Jack rolls his eyes as the gate agent announces priority boarding for first class. He tucks his phone away and goes through the motions of checking in and settling into his seat, making sure to fire off a “bye for now” text to Bitty before switching his phone to airplane mode. He flips through the magazine selection idly. He misses Skymall; he would buy Bitty an overpriced garden gnome or something that would make him laugh. 

He keeps thinking of Bitty as the plane taxis and takes off. He’s spent the past two months sorting through pieces of Bitty, connecting the dots and filling in blanks. It’s a familiar exercise: stats to player performance, tempered by the variables of the ice and game play. Primary to secondary sources, altered by time and perspective. 

And then there’s Bitty. Teammate to friend to boyfriend. A man whose hospitality and ability to be a total little shit both know no bounds; a talented hockey player whose soft hands work magic with dough; and a solid, comforting weight in Jack’s heart that, only two months in, seems unlikely to be dislodged.

Jack closes his eyes as the plane reaches cruising altitude and smiles. 

* * * *

_July 4th_

When they get back to the house, Suzanne sets them both to work hauling folding chairs out of the garage, filling up huge coolers with drinks and ice, and packing up container after container of cold fried chicken, deviled eggs, and fruit salad. By the time it’s all loaded into her van and she is on her way to the park, Jack desperately needs a shower, and Bitty has vanished to some corner of the house. 

Jack takes his time showering, enjoying the small pleasure of trying out someone else’s soaps and shampoos. He shaves and pulls on shorts and a navy blue tee, and by the time he returns to Bitty’s room to put his toiletries in his suitcase, Bitty is on his bed, poking at his phone. Jack sits down next to him, knocking their shoulders together. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Bitty doesn’t look up from his phone. “Do we have to talk about this afternoon?”

“Yup.”

“Couldn’t we do something more fun than that? Like, I dunno. Slowly pulling off a dozen Band-Aids?” Bitty turns to toss his phone up to the head of the bed and rearranges himself, pulling his legs up under him and facing Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” Jack reaches out to rub Bitty’s knee. “I had a good time seeing Madison.”

Bitty snorts at that, and Jack smiles. “You mock my pain,” Bitty says, gently swatting Jack’s hand away from his leg. 

“Tell me.” Jack catches Bitty’s hand. “Tell me what I did wrong.”

“Nothing. That’s the problem. It’s all me.” Bitty pulls away from Jack and slumps just like he did in the truck.

“Can’t be all you.” Jack shakes his head. “It’s got to be both of us, on the same page.”

Bitty sighs, and looks down at his hands in his lap. “I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to… you know. I just froze, and I hate that, because I really want to. I really, really want to do _things_ with you-”

“You were doing just fine this afternoon,” Jack interrupts, and he watches as Bitty perks up at the praise. “Also, if you can’t say what it is you want, we probably shouldn’t be doing it,” Jack added, teasing.

Bitty snaps his head up—Jack recognizes the glint in his eyes as the same look Bitty gets on the ice right before he whips a puck straight into Jack’s tape, right before he weaves through players almost twice his weight without flinching. Bittle looks him dead in the eye. “I want to put my hands all over you.”

Jack thought his days of underestimating Bitty were behind him.

“And I want your mouth all over me.”

Jack was so wrong.

“And I want to do every single thing under the sun that two men can do with each other.”

So, so wrong.

“But…” Bitty loses confidence and looks back down. “…you’re---you’re _older_ , Jack. And you’ve… you know. With. More.”

Jack clears his throat. “Older?”

Bitty flushes. “You know what I mean.”

Jack’s been compared to a robot more times than he’d care to count, but he can recognize a delicate moment when it’s stretching out before him. He chooses his words carefully. “Yeah, I guess I am older, but I’ve never been this age with you before.”

Bitty glances up. “I suppose that’s true.”

“And with age comes wisdom right?” 

“So they tell me,” Bitty says. “You did just get that fancy degree n’all,” he finished, teasing.

“Well, my history professors never quite covered this,” Jack chirps, rewarded with Bitty’s flush deepening. Jack leans in. “You don’t have anything to prove to me, Bitty,” he says seriously, gently touching Bitty’s face. 

“You sure?”

“Yes. I got your back on this one.” Jack leans forward to kiss Bitty with the full weight of his promise behind it, deep and searing, enough that they’re both panting when he pulls away. “And I am very, very interested in your… back.”

“Lord, I certainly hope we’re moving away from metaphors, here.”

“We would be if I wasn’t 100% sure your mom would murder me if we’re late for the picnic.”

Bitty softly gasps and puts his hand over his heart. “My mother would NEVER murder a guest. She would, however, hold us being late over my head for the next decade, so let’s go.”

“Beauty before age, Bittle.” 

“You are the worst.” 

“You’re the one who just spent ten minutes talking about how ancient I am.”

“The absolute worst!” Bitty smiles, and before Jack can even think to form a chirp Bitty is kissing him, slow and careful, his hands on Jack’s shoulders. 

Jack presses in, grabbing Bitty’s hands and sliding them down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Bitty breaks the kiss to look at him and Jack shrugs. “You said you wanted to touch me all over. Might as well get a little head start.” 

Bitty laughs as he pushes up Jack’s shirt, his fingers tracing Jack’s abs. “Mercy, my momma really will be mad if we’re late, but you’re right, I did say that, and I like to think of myself as a man of my word.” One of his hands comes to a rest on Jack’s belt buckle for half a second before he gently tugs down Jack’s shirt and gives him a peck on the lips, smiling when he pulls away. “I see what you’re doin’, Captain. Leadin’ the way.”

“Whatever it takes to make a play work.” Jack almost manages to keep a straight face as he speaks, but can’t help but grin on the last word. 

Bitty grimaces. “Oh my God, you did not just bring up hockey. Ugh. C’mon, we gotta go for real now.” Bitty pulls Jack up off the bed, and they head out.

It turns out that they arrive at the park only ten minutes later than Suzanne expected them, and while she doesn’t kill them she does make Jack move the heaviest cooler approximately twenty times before she’s satisfied, while Bitty smirks at him from over her shoulder.

It takes Jack and Bitty a while to work through the welcomes and catch up to conversations as people trickle in, but eventually they sneak away with full plates and find good seats at a wooden picnic table next to some of Bitty’s cousins. Jack spends most of his dinner happily ignoring the chatting in favor of his food. Suzanne had loaded him up with a bit of everything; he isn’t sure how he’s reached his mid-20s without knowing about deviled eggs, but he’s happy that mistake has been rectified. Okra, though, is another story. 

“Why is it slimy?” he hisses at Bitty. He uses his fork to poke unhappily at the offending vegetable.

“It just is.” Bitty reaches over to spear the few pieces sequestered to a corner of Jack’s plate. “Happy?”

“Yes.” Jack returns to demolishing his second piece of cold fried chicken, pausing between bites to chat with Bitty’s cousin Jeff, who seems a little starstruck but still eager to talk sports with a pro-athlete. Jack lets Jeff carry most of the conversation, enjoying how chattering when nervous seems to be a family trait for the Bittles. 

After a very liberal application of mosquito repellant, they walk around the lake with Bitty’s aunts, followed by a game of Ultimate Frisbee that only ends when they can no longer see where the Frisbee lands. It’s finally dark enough for the fireworks, so everyone heads back toward the picnic area to grab sodas and snacks before the show. Jack and Bitty find seats at a table abandoned by everyone else in favor of blankets spread out on the grassy area a dozen yards away. They settle in just as the first flare of color streaks across the sky. Bitty’s ankle is hooked over Jack’s under the table, and Jack slings his arm around Bitty’s shoulder, tipping his head to rest against Bitty’s so they can talk over the booms of the display, his thumb surreptitiously stroking the nape of Bitty’s neck. Jack knows it looks innocent enough if anybody bothers to walk by, but Bitty’s bare foot keeps creeping up and down his calf, and his hand is firmly on Jack’s knee, hidden by the dark amid everyone else’s attention to the sky. 

Jack leans into Bitty’s side and speaks softly. “You’re playing dirty.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Bitty gives Jack’s knee a squeeze. 

Jack leans in closer and bites Bitty’s earlobe. The resulting yelp is thankfully covered by a particularly loud explosion.

They scoot apart when the show ends and go to help pack up everything. Bitty ends up with a handful of teenage cousins who need rides home in the bed of his truck, so Jack does actually end up getting a little tour of Madison. He’s not really paying attention, though, since Bitty keeps brushing his hand along Jack’s thigh.

They finally make it back, and after assuring Suzanne for the fifth time that he needs neither the air conditioning turned down nor another blanket or pillow to make him comfy on the trundle of Bitty’s bed, she finally says goodnight and vanishes down the hall to her and Coach’s room. Jack takes a quick shower to rinse off the insect repellant and sweat from the picnic. By the time he’s done and back to the room, Bitty is curled up on the bed in a Samwell tee and boxers, smiling at his phone. 

“Hey,” Jack says as he runs a towel over his head. “Who you smiling at?”

“Lardo.” Bitty glances up from at him. “She says hey.”

“Oh does she?” Jack puts down the towel and climbs over the pulled out trundle mattress to sit on the bed next to Bitty. 

Bitty clears his throat. “She also said you’re shaping up to be a mighty fine boyfriend.”

“Lardo said ‘mighty fine’?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Ugh,” Bitty groans and flops backwards. “I thought she and Shitty got it all out of their systems two weeks ago, but no. She managed to chirp the ever loving hell out of me while also refusing to stop going on and on about how proud she was of us for talking about stuff like adults—“

“What?”

“—and then she called me and sang Ginuwine at me till I hung up on her.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “Is Ginuwine…bad?”

Bitty laughs, scooting closer to Jack and climbing into his lap for the second time that day.

Jack exhales slowly. “Are you sure, Bitty?”

“I’m just a bachelor,” Bitty sings.

“What?”

“Looking for a partner.”

Jack furrows his brow and Bitty smiles at him. “It’s from a song. I’ll play it for you later. And yes,” he says softly, “I’m ready. I’m not worried any more about your _experience_ , Jack. I trust you, and I want you so much I might die if you don’t touch me. I’m ready.”

Jack kisses him as Bitty twines his arms around Jack’s neck and slips his fingers into Jack’s hair. Jack runs his hands over Bitty’s back, feeling the muscles tense and relax as Bitty shifts to find a better angle, his fingers rising and falling over the notches of Bitty’s spine. 

Bitty’s mouth is soft and sweet, so it’s a surprise when he tugs at Jack’s hair, just hard enough to sting, and a soft gasp slips out of Jack’s mouth and into Bitty’s. Jack breaks the kiss smiling. “Take my shirt off.” 

Bitty’s teeth worry at his bottom lip as he slips Jack’s shirt over his head, and Jack can’t help but laugh at Bitty’s dazed expression. “Hush,” Bitty says. “It’s not quite the same as seeing you in the locker room.”

“I would hope not.” Jack takes Bitty’s hands in his, his movements slow as he lifts the right one to his mouth, kissing the palm reverently, and puts the left on his thigh. He feels more than sees Bitty shiver. “You can touch me wherever you want.” He kisses each of Bitty’s fingers before trailing his hand down the side of his face and resting it on his shoulder. 

“Well, well.” Bitty runs his fingers down Jack’s chest, stopping when he gets to the top of his shorts. “I do like to be spoiled for choice.”

“Oh, do you?” Jack asks. 

Bitty slips his fingers under the elastic of Jack’s boxers in response. “Must be the only child in me.”

Jack hitches his hips to bump Bitty off him. Bitty gets the idea and scrambles off his lap, sitting with his back to the wall. 

Jack stands and begins to stretch, careful to flex his arms, then his abs, as he moves. Bitty rolls his eyes. “Come on.” 

Jack slides his boxers off and kicks them away when they hit his feet.

“Oh my fucking God.” Bitty stares from where he sits cross-legged on the bed, eyes wide. Jack can make out the flush crawling down his torso even in the dim light from the bedside lamp.

“So that’s what it takes to get you to swear?” Jack moves back to kneel on the bed in front of Bitty.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Bitty says breathlessly, so Jack crawls the short distance to him and does, kissing him till Bitty sits up, pressing himself against Jack.

“You’re still dressed.” Jack tugs at the hem of Bitty’s shirt. Bitty lets him slip it over his head, then dives back in to kiss him again as he strips out of his briefs. Bitty can’t decide where to put his hands; they skim Jack’s shoulders, then wander down to trace his abs. One hand softly kneads Jack’s bicep, while the other settles at the base of Jack’s neck, pulling him closer. Jack covers the hand on his arm with his own and gently puts it on his chest, guiding two of Bitty’s fingers to circle around his nipple. He feels Bitty smile against his mouth just before he pinches his nipple, hard. Jack gasps, and Bitty does it again, moving to the other one, following with his mouth. “You’re a quick study.”

“Well, you weren’t subtle,” Bitty says, leaning in to scrape his teeth against Jack’s chest. “I’m just taking a little initiative.”

“Subtle? I shouldn’t think so; I’m naked in your bed.” Jack leads one of Bitty’s hands down from his chest to just above his cock. His gaze turns serious. “Hey,” he says, using the other hand to tip Bitty’s face to his. “Okay?”

Bitty stares him straight in the eye as he wraps his hand around Jack’s cock and swirls his thumb over the tip. “You got my back, I got yours,” he whispers. Jack gasps as Bitty begins to move his hand in quick strokes. 

“Shh. Not too loud.” 

“So shut me up if—“ Jack’s next words are lost as Bitty kisses him, sloppy and perfect. 

Jack manages to move so that he’s sitting back on his feet, Bitty in his lap again, so he can reach down and jerk Bitty off. They aren’t kissing so much as breathing into each other’s mouths, ragged and quick. Jack isn’t going to last long; it’s too good, it’s too much, and it’s Bitty, surrounding him and overwhelming him in the best way. 

He muffles his cry against Bitty’s neck as he comes. Bitty freezes, and Jack is just about to try and focus enough to reassure him when Bitty says his name stuttery and soft. Jack pushes at Bitty’s shoulders until he’s flat on the bed, Jack kneeling between his legs. 

“You said you wanted my mouth all over you, right?” Jack shifts to move down the bed, sliding his arms under Bitty’s hips and lowering his head to lick up the underside of Bitty’s cock. 

“Don’t stop!” Bitty gasps each syllable in soft little bursts. Jack obliges and takes him into his mouth. He doesn’t stop until he feels Bitty’s heels kicking against his back, hard. He pulls off and strokes him firmly with his hand, crawling up to kiss Bitty through his orgasm. 

After a few more slow, soft kisses, Jack rolls on his back and tugs at Bitty, arranging them so that Bitty’s head is resting on Jack’s chest. He touches Bitty’s cheek, and then trails his fingers down his jaw and over his shoulders. Bitty makes a contented noise and presses into Jack tightly, his eyes closed. “Bitty?” Jack asks one more time.

“Yes,” Bitty says, dazedly. A beat passes, and then Bitty’s eyes slowly open to find Jack looking down at him with a soft smile. “Oh my God. I didn’t think it would be so—well, so…” Bitty screws up his face, trying to find the words. 

Jack clears his throat. “’Swawesome?”

“You did not just say that.” 

“Oh, sorry. I meant ‘totally ‘swawesome.’” Jack easily dodges the pillow Bitty aims at his head and grabs his arms, pulling him up and kissing him until Bitty starts yawning and pushes Jack away to get some tissues and clean them up. They spend a few minutes figuring out how to best fit in the bed, and end up with Jack on his back and Bitty wrapped around him. Bitty sighs happily into Jack’s hair. “Are we gonna fall asleep without making terrible jokes about fireworks and things goin’ off?”

“Yes, because that would be gauche and American.” Jack is already sleepy, Bitty’s warm weight against him inviting and soothing. 

“Aww,” Bitty nuzzles deeper into Jack’s side. “But baby you’re a firework.”

“I am not.”

“C’mon show me what you’re worth.”

“Are you asking about my starting salary, because—“

“Make ‘em go oh, oh, oh,” Bitty sings.

“I already did, about five minutes ago.”

“Oh my God, stop.”

“Was that a Taylor Swift song?” 

“The worst, absolutely,” Bitty says, half heartedly swatting at Jack, who just grabs his hand, kisses it, and rests it over his heart. 

* * * *

_July 6th_

Jack’s plane lands three minutes ahead of time and before he knows it, he’s driving again, this time in his own truck. He swings by the grocery story before heading home. Suzanne gave him a recipe for mustard glazed chicken she swears by and promised to walk him through it on Skype if he needed help. He thinks he can manage just fine, but he might play a little dumb just to score some brownie points with her. Jack knows the glow of this weekend won’t carry him and Bitty forever, that there are real, difficult things coming up in his and Bitty’s lives. But if history has taught him anything, there’s always a calm before the storm, and it’s well worth enjoying before building reserves and strategizing. 

He walks into his apartment humming. He doesn’t know the words, but Bitty will.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's my take on Bitty being insecure about his sexual inexperience but at the same time really really wanting to bang Jack like a screen door in a hurricane. The boy knows how to go after things he wants, my friends.
> 
> Random notes:
> 
> My sister suggested that after the truck scene Bitty would text Lardo with "SOS -- AM HORNY AND V CONFUSED." I think that probs happened.
> 
> If you were wondering, Bitty orders his hash browns scattered, smothered, covered, diced, and chunked, with hot sauce.
> 
> The title is from "Firework" by Katy Perry. If you already knew that, thank you for still reading. 
> 
> You can come talk to me about Check Please on Tumblr -- I'm agrossunderstatement.


End file.
